The-Child-Who-Lived
by Tytyk
Summary: A third year fist fight between Harry and Draco leads to a major discovery forcing Draco so see the-child-who-lived in a whole new way. mostly cannon compliant to begin with but with one major change. Trans-gender but not really. Cross-dressing. Tomboy. Gender-identity. non-slash. Eventual Harry/Draco planned. Umbitch is a bitch. female-harry.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but an impressive yet already worthless DVD collection, and of course way too many pop vinyls**

 **A/N: T rating for now but will go up in later chapters.**

 **I will try to update weekly, I have plans through until at least sixth year for now but I'll see where the story takes me :)**

 **Also I am kiwi of the commonwealth so apologies to any Americans and such who don't like my English spelling**

* * *

Draco may not be one to embrace muggle ideals but there was something about muggle dueling. It was certainly more enjoyable when the other party involved was Potter. There was a whole other level of satisfaction to see Potter go down by his own hands. To feel Potter nose breaking beneath his first whilst he pinned the-child-who-lived down, sitting on his waist. Not that Draco would ever admit to enjoying muggle dueling more than wizard dueling, when asked later he'd just tell people he only went along after Potter started it by slapping him. What kind of a boy slaps anyway. Draco may not be well versed in many things muggle but even he knew boys don't slap in muggle dueling. Of course Potter tried punching after Draco first landed his first but he was too late. Draco had always known Potter was on the small side but he weaker than even Draco has expected. Merlin, even Granger had had more strength behind her own punch when she'd hit him yesterday.

Draco could hear people yelling all around him and knew Crabbe and Goyle would be holding back Potters friends for him. Right now he really didn't care. All that mattered was that Potter was pinned beneath him. He wasn't even trying to fight back anymore, just holding his thin arms in front of his face in a sad attempt to protect it from Draco's fist. Draco watched in morbid satisfaction as more blood spurted from Potters nose each time his fist made contact. Potter held Draco's eyes throughout the whole thing, jaw set, refusing to make a sound. He had to admit, as weak as Potter was, he knew how to take a hit.

Strong hands grabbed Draco by the shoulders and threw him a good couple of meters down the hall. Draco stood and watched as Lupin and McGonagall bent over Potter to examine the damage and helped him to sit up. A second pair of hands grabbed Draco and shoved him against the hall wall. He spared barely a moment to wonder as to why Severus had his anger directed at _him_. Didn't he hate the-child-who-lived just as much as he did? Yet already Draco's attention was back on Potter. A smirk on his face, holding Potter's eyes, as the boy struggled to stand with the help of the two Professors. Under McGonagall's instruction Severus forced him to Dumbledore's office as the other two took Potter presumably to the hospital wing. Severus continued to berate him the entire way. Talking of how disappointed he was in him. He was supposed to be above such things. His parents raised him better than to do such a thing.

So what? Potter got exactly what he deserved. He'd happily do it all over again just to wipe that smug look off Potter's face. See him _dare_ to touch the Malfoy heir ever again after the harsh lesson he's just been taught. Draco wanted to laugh at the irony that he, a pure blood, had beat the muggle raised Potter in a muggle duel. He was never going to let scar head forget it. Reaching the Headmaster's office Draco and Severus took a seat as the Headmaster went to check out the damage done. Severus just scowled at Draco when he requested some bruise paste for his knuckles, Potter's face seemed to have damaged them some. In all honestly, his shoulders where Lupin grabbed him and threw him off Potter hurt much more than his knuckles. The frail, bookworm Professor was a lot stronger than he looked. Apparently Severus hadn't been lying when proclaiming him a werewolf at breakfast.

The Headmaster returned twenty minutes later with Potter, McGonagall and Lupin in tow. Draco smirked when seeing the drying blood down the front of Potter's shirt. The smirk was wiped straight off his face however, when his parents came in behind Lupin. His Father, whom Draco knew would be disappointed in him for partaking in muggle dueling, was the epitome of a calm man. Draco wasn't fooled, he knew the man could easily mask his emotions, but that wasn't what had him shaking in his seat. His Mother. A dignified woman of the Black house, one to _never_ show emotions in public. A face of pure fury. Fury, which it seemed, was directed all at him. Draco, whose Mother had never directed the slightest inkling of negative emotion toward him. She didn't seem to be holding anything back. The glare she sent his way had him wanting to flee the room and hide for the rest of the century in the hopes that was enough time for her to cool off.

Now Potter was smirking, Draco was sure, at the pure horror shining through his own face. Something which had to be corrected. Potter had started it after all. It wasn't his fault the pathetic child-who-lived was too weak to finish it. A fact Draco promptly informed the adults in the room of. Anger flickered across Fathers face, unmistakably directed at his son. Before Father had a chance to say anything Potter cut in.

"I slapped you. _One_ time. And only a _fter_ you said you'd be starting a petition to have Remus put down like a dog. Maybe slap me back, but bashing my face in was a _bit_ of an over kill." Draco didn't miss Lupin fists clenching at Potters statement and felt a ghost pain pulse through his shoulders at the motion.

"So you admit you started it do you Potty?"

"Draco Lucius Malfoy! I do not give a _shit_ who started it" Mothers cursing shocked Draco and all other occupants in the room into silence. "I thought we had raised you better than that. I don't care if she's insulted the Black and Malfoy names and stolen all the family gold. If you had fought back with magic at least you would have been on even ground. But how _dare_ you think to even raise a _finger_ let alone your fists! I never would have thought I could be so disgusted by my own son. Yet here I am, proven wrong."

Draco couldn't believe what Mother was saying, it was like a knife to the chest, so of course Father just had to twist it.

"To say we are disappointed in you, son, would be an understatement. If Dumbledore decides to expel you, he would have our full support."

"While the school obviously does not condone young Mr Malfoy's behaviour, I do not believe I will be expelling him this time. I will however, be suspending you for the remainder of the school term. Of course, if there were ever to be a repeat incident, immediate expulsion would be non-negotiable, is that understood Mr Malfoy?"

Draco nodded, head reeling. Why was Father not defending him? He _always_ took his side publicly, it was a matter of showing a united family front. Even with that stupid bird, he'd yelled himself horse at Draco for his stupidity in the privacy of Severus's quarters, but had used all his power to ensure it was sentenced to execution afterwards. All because Draco had publically declared that he's have it done. To take Potter's side, _Dumbledore's_ _side,_ over his own son? Surely someone had confunded the man, or perhaps more seriously, the imperious? The rage still emanating from his Mother though, could not have been spell induced, she was genuinely _pissed_.

"What do you have to say to Miss Potter, Draco"

Draco looked Mother in the eye for the first time since she'd entered the room. She could not seriously be expecting him to apologise to… Potter? What did his Mother say? Miss Potter? Perhaps Mother had been confunded after all. Everyone knew the-child-who-lived was a boy, right. Now it all made sense. _That_ , was why Mother and possibly Father were so angry and disappointed. They had some ridiculous idea in their head that Potter was a girl. Draco couldn't help but laugh at this. They thought he'd bashed some girls face in. He'd _never_ hit a girl, he'd been raised better than that. Even when Granger hit him yesterday he hadn't considered for even a moment, hitting her back, because _she was a girl._ Potter, most definitely, _was not_.

He'd known the boy for three years for Merlin's sake, surely he'd know better than his parents. Anyone could see it. Potter had short hair, like a boy, though Pansy had been known to have short hair at times during their childhood. He wore school uniform pants, not a skirt, who cares if Millicent also wore the uniform trousers. And what about breasts? Almost _all_ the girls in their year had breasts by now, even Tracey Davis had some mosquito bites visible when wearing just a shirt on hot days. Of course Potters clothes were no way near as tight as Davis', because Potter wore boy clothes, because Potter was a boy. Even the blood stained shirt Potter wore now was at least three sizes too big, no sign of breasts but for maybe the small bump visible on one side where the blood dried sticking the shirt to his skin.

Wait? What? Why the hell does Potter have any kind of chest bump under his shirt? He's a boy. Boys don't have bumps on their chests no matter how small. Especially not boys as skinny as Potter, maybe on Crabbe but not Potter. Yet there it was, and sure as day, yet not as noticeable without the clingy blood, a matching bump on the other side. Crossed arms were suddenly hiding the bumps from Draco's view. Looking up into Potter's disgusted face Draco paled at his epiphany. Potter was a girl. _Potter was a girl!_ He'd beat up a _girl._

"What the fuck is wrong with you Malfoy!" Potter yelled, ignoring McGonagall's cry of 'language'. "First you punch my face in not showing the least bit of remorse. Then you _laugh_ when your Mother even _suggests_ that you apologise. And now you think you can sit there and ogle my chest? Clearly _inbreeding_ is showing its effects on your brain."

With that Potter stood from _her_ chair, arms still crossed to hide _her_ chest and then _she_ left the room followed by Lupin with Dumbledore permission.

Draco sat stunned as, if possible, Mother seemed to become even angrier and all other occupants of the room just looked at him in disbelief. Draco then realised, Mother's anger right now was nothing, she _was_ holding back. Malfoy heir or not, when they got home, if he was still alive, he was so grounded.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but an impressive yet already worthless DVD collection, and of course way too many pop vinyls**

 **A/N: T rating for now but will go up in later chapters.**

 **I will try to update weekly, I have plans through until at least sixth year for now but I'll see where the story takes me :)**

 **Also I am kiwi of the commonwealth so apologies to any Americans and such who don't like my English spelling**

* * *

Harry threw herself onto her bed as she heard her uncle slide the locks into place on her bedroom door. She couldn't _believe_ this year. It had just been one big, long emotional roller-coaster. She'd had a mass-murdering Godfather out for her blood. Her best friend's rat turned out to be the man responsible for her own parents' deaths. She'd had all of five minutes of euphoria believing she was finally leaving the Dursley's for good, to live with a not mass-murdering Godfather, in a loving home where she was actually wanted. Her favourite teacher had then proved he was in fact a werewolf. Not that Harry had any problem with the whole werewolf thing but in the process the rat Wormtail had escaped, forcing Sirius back on the run, effectively ending the whole 'leaving the Dursleys' dream. Then of course there was the army of dementors she had to fight off just to keep Sirius alive. To top it all off Malfoy, once again proved himself to be a complete and utter prat and a pervert to boot.

During the last few days of school she'd heard rumours that he'd told the other Slytherins he hadn't _known_ she was a girl, Harry didn't believed that for a moment. Sure her aunt forced her to wear Dudley's old clothes because 'Clothes are clothes, you'll wear what you're given' and of course she was forced to keep her hair short; 'We're not wasting our precious money paying for you to haver designer cuts and hair ties'. Having worn boy clothes and kept her hair short her whole life, it was just what came natural to her now. When madam Malkin had given her a skirt to try on before first year she'd laughed herself silly before taking it off and asking for the uniform trousers instead. She had of course, worn the occasional dress when her relatives couldn't get out of bringing her along to one of her uncles work functions, but it wasn't something she felt comfortable in. She had a couple of nice ones hidden in the bottom of her trunk, gifts from Hermione and Mrs. Weasley. Other than trying them occasionally in the privacy of her room, however, she'd never worn them, there was never an occasion for it.

Whether she looked like a boy or not, Harry knew Malfoy was just trying to save face, defending his hitting of a girl. Not that she cared about the whole gender thing, in all honesty the one thing she liked about Malfoy was that he _didn't_ treat her like a girl, he didn't even treat her as the-child-who-lived, just another person. Even her best friend, Ron, could treat her like a girl some times which just made her want to punch him, which she had on several occasions. Of course _Ron_ never hit her back with more than a playful shove. Malfoy on the other hand had taken it a _bit_ far. As much as she hated to be treated like one, she _was_ a girl and Malfoy knew that. As much as she loathed the fame she'd gained by being the-child-who-lived, it was because of this fame that everyone knew all there was to know about her. Whether she wore dresses or trousers, everyone _knew_ she was a she, including Malfoy.

Harry walked over to the wardrobe and opened it to look at the mirror inside, taking in her features. She pulled her hair back, flat against her head as it would if it were long enough to be tied back in a ponytail. A smile flitted across her face as she thought how much she looked like her Mother. Most people took one look at her Potter hair and told her she looked just like her father. Having found younger photos of her Mother while cleaning in the attic last summer Harry knew this wasn't true. If her hair were her Mothers dark red and if it wasn't for her Fathers nose on her face, she'd be the spitting image of her Mother at this age, not just the eyes. Even Professor Lupin, Remus, had told her so after they'd spent a bit more time together during patronus lessons.

Harry attempted to flatten her hair where it stuck up at the back, definitely the Potter hair. She mused whether it would lay more flat if it were allowed to grow out some. Perhaps now that she was gone nine months out the year her aunt wouldn't care so much about it being long. Besides, she now had a mass-murdering Godfather to threaten them with if her aunt tried coming at her with the scissors. Harry thought with a smirk that it could be fun, to grow her hair out, just to know how much it would annoy the hell out of her Aunt.

Harry eyes travelled down her body, pulling Dudley's shirt tight over her chest. Shivering at the memory of Malfoy staring in Dumbledore's office, she let the shirt fall lose again. On the one hand she was grateful that she was yet to grow much in the chest department. She'd seen the way boys stared at the more developed girls in their class and it just made her want to layer up in Dudley's oversized shirts. She already got enough attention as it was being the-child-who-lived, people could do without more reasons to stare at her. She couldn't believe _Malfoy_ was the first boy to ever notice her sad excuse for breasts, while she was covered in the blood he put there no less. On the other hand, however, she couldn't help but be jealous of the other girls. Every other girl in their year had a bigger chest than her, even Tracey Davis with her mosquito bites. The looks of _desire_ boys gave the other girls, even at this age, Harry wished someone would look at her like that. She'd even seen Ron staring at Hermione when he thought no one was looking.

Not that she wanted _Ron_ to look at her like that, ew he was like a brother, but she just wanted to be wanted. She wanted a boy to want her because he thought she was beautiful, desirable, not because she didn't die with her parents when she should have. Even little Ginny Weasley, a year younger, had bigger breasts than her. Hermione assured her that she'd grow too, she just had to start that _monthly_ thing that Hermione and the other girls in their dorm had told her about in second year. Second year when _they_ all started theirs, it was nearly fourth year and she was still waiting. Hermione and Madam Pomfrey both had told her she just needed to gain some weight, that her low weight was likely the reason for her being such a late bloomer. Lavender and Parvati would always laugh whenever she'd grumble about it, assuring her the later it started the better. Who wanted to bleed out their lady bits every months? Of course they'd say that, like Hermione _they_ had breasts, curvy hips too. Every boy in their year wanted them, they were beautiful. Whereas Harry was just Harry. No one wanted _her_ , just the-child-who-lived.

Harry scowled at her reflection and slammed the wardrobe door shut. She heard the locks on the other side of her bedroom door slide open as her Aunt screeched at her through the door that it was time to start on dinner. The threat of no meals for a week of if she _dared_ to burn anything. Sitting in her room hungry later that night, because of course how stupid of her to think five servings of roast pork and potatoes would be enough for Aunt Petunia's precious Dudykins, Harry thought of how she'd never be getting breasts.

* * *

Draco threw his copy of _Modern Magical History_ across the room, taking pleasure in the thud it made as it connected first with the wall and then the floor. Previously he'd refused to read any book linked to Harry Potter. During his childhood it was because he was determined that anything he learnt of his 'new best friend' would be from the 'boy' himself. For the last three year of course, it had been purely out of spite for the 'boy' refusing his offer of friendship back in first year. Draco had, of course, heard all kind of stories about the-child-who-lived through other means. Never had he thought that the all-powerful vanquisher of the dark lord was a _girl_. Merlin help him if his Mother heard _that_ thought.

He'd always heard the stories of Harry Potter. Never Harrietta Potter. The books said that _Harrietta's_ Father had taken to calling her Harry as a baby after he hadn't been able to talk his mudblood wife out of naming their daughter something so atrocious after some relative. The papers apparently had the same opinion when the stories of the-child-who-lived had been published and it stuck. Merlin knows why Harry herself had chosen to go by a boy's name her whole life, probably the same reason as everyone else. Draco almost pitied her for her Mothers choice in name.

Draco called a house elf to return the book to the library before his parents could saw the way he'd treated the book. He didn't need to give them any more reason to punish him. He'd never been grounded in his life, yet because of this incident with Potter, three weeks into the summer holidays and he was _still_ grounded. No seeing his friends, no flying, no leaving the grounds of Malfoy manor. He was grateful just to be allowed to walk around the gardens. Not that he dared to complain to his parents of course. A month practically on house arrest and he continued to be on his best behaviour. All in hopes Mother would allow him to attend the quidditch world cup final, he'd already missed nearly all the games as part of his punishment for what he done to Potter at the end of the semester.

He'd finished all his homework within the first week of being grounded, read any and every book pertaining to the-child-who-lived through the second week. Now by the fourth week he'd read them all over countess times. He was going stir crazy and _needed_ to get out of this house. Perhaps he could convince Mother to take him shopping. Potter's birthday was coming up and he had plans to send her a bloody dress, save future confusion. Maybe a couple of push up bras while he was at it, she obviously needed the padding. Of course Draco knew better than to voice these opinions and tell Mother his real plans, he did after all, want out of the house sometime this summer.

* * *

Draco stifled his laughter as he hid behind the racks of clothes in Madam Malkins. He could hear Potter's voice raising as she continued to argue with the Weasley matriarch as Granger and the Weaslete watched on helpless. The Weasel himself was absent, obviously not keen on joining his best friend _bra_ shopping, because apparently Draco wasn't the only one who thought Potter needed to get a few push up bras.

"Mrs. Weasley, I've already told you, I agreed to come shopping with you to get some _sports_ bras, for _quidditch_. I am not buying not wearing _that."_ Potter glared at the frilly pink monstrosity of a push up bra Mrs. Weasley held in one hand.

"Harrietta Potter-" Draco decided even he would have back down if Potter had directed _that_ glare at him. Her glare hadn't been that deadly, not even when she caught him staring at her tits right after breaking her nose end of last semester. This woman, however, was the only person on earth those pesky twins seemed to fear, and just raised one unimpressed brow at the look she'd received, causing Potter to blush. "Harrietta Potter. You listen to me. You are a young lady, young ladies need to wear bras. You may be happy with you sports bras for now but you're nearly fourteen years old for Merlins sakes. You will start growing before the years out and you're going to need some _proper_ bras for every day wear. Not to mention something a bit nicer to wear under your dress for the ball this year."

"Woa woa woa! Who said I'm wearing a dress to the bloody ball? Hell, who said I'm going to the bloody ball at all?"

"You watch your language young lady. And do tell what exactly you plan on wearing to the ball if not a dress? Because you will be going to that ball, your school letters state that it's _mandatory_ for all fourth years and above?"

Potter struggled to come up with an answer under the matriarchs gaze. Turning to Granger and Weaslete but seeing she'd be getting not help there she appeared to resign to her fate. Pushing her grown chin length hair back from her face and looking around the store before turning back to Mrs. Weasley desperately.

"Does it really have to be so frilly? I can handle the pink, it's not like anyone else will see that. Even the push up part isn't so bad. But the frills are going to stick out like dogs balls through my school shirt."

Granger and Weaslete stifled their own laughter as Mrs. Weasley huffed and turned back to the racks to hunt out a less frilly option for Potter. Draco slipped out of the store without buying anything, deciding Mrs. Weasley had the bra and dress department covered. Perhaps he'd send her some makeup at Yule, she should be used to the push up bras and dresses by then.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews that I've already received, it made me smile that people actually like the idea :)**

 **I don't plan on continuing to update so regularly form now on, just once a week, but couldn't help but posting another chapter as thanks. I don't have anything more written just yet so you really will need to wait this time though.**

 **Qoheleth - Don't worry I definitely know it's not K, I'm not sure why it's K rated to you, for me it says T?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer – I own nothing but pop vinyls, seriously they're taking over and now they're releasing** _ **more**_ **Harry Potter ones! #preordered ;)**

 **A/N: Sorry for taking so long, I got stumped on the start of the chapter so wrote and publish an whole new story XD focus is back on this one now though I promise.**

* * *

"Harrietta Potter!" Dumbledore called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!" Harry stumbled over her robes as Hermione pushed her up towards the head table. Harry felt numb as Dumbledore directed her to the ante-chamber. She should have known something was going to go wrong, she should have just gone to the hospital wing and skipped the feast. Surely had she not been at the feast then none of this would have happened? Was just one _peaceful_ year at Hogwarts really so much to ask for? Just one year without some beast or lunatic trying to kill her. One _relatively_ normal year.

Staring at the other three champions Harry didn't hear Bagman entering the room as she took in how much bigger and older than her they all were. There had to of been a mistake. Perhaps if the cup had come out with 'Harry Potter' then she wouldn't have to compete. Because Harry wasn't her real name right? Just a nickname. The cups contract would be with 'Harry Potter' not 'Harrietta Potter' surely that could have been her way out. But it wasn't. Dumbledore had clearly called out 'Harrietta Potter' there was no mistaking it. As Bagman had just announced, she was the fourth triwizard champion. She was _screwed._

Getting ready for bed that night Harry couldn't have feel miserable. Everyone thought she had put her name in the goblet and was lying to save getting into trouble, including Ron. They had a huge fight in the stair well as she made her escape from the Gryffindor party. Harry was hoping to talk to Hermione in the dorms as she hadn't been in the common room with everyone else. Harry had almost cried when she saw Hermione's bed empty, her last hope at rational conversation gone for the night. When Harry heard Lavender and Parvati's voices on the stairs she hid behind the curtains of her bed. She didn't need to hear any more questions asking how she'd tricked Dumbledore's age line.

When Harry got up the next morning Hermione was still missing. A very tired version of the girl herself intercepted Harry on her way down to breakfast with a stack of toast, leading her out into the grounds before so much as a scowl could be directed her way from the Great Hall. Hermione had, apparently, spent the entire night in the library researching everything she could about the goblet of fire. She'd only had to see Harry's face when her name was called to know she hadn't entered herself and would be wanting a way out. Too bad Ron didn't seem to know his friend quite as well, though he was pretty dense at the best of times. Unfortunately, Hermione's research had reached the same conclusion as the teachers and officiators had last night, Harry could either compete, or lose her magic. Well aware of the misery her life had been prior to learning she was a witch, Harry decided to prepare herself for a very public and likely gruesome death competing. While Harry spent the day avoiding the rest of the school, Ron spent his own avoiding her like the plague. Screw him, she'd done nothing wrong, if he wanted to be a childish prat who sided with the school against his best friend he could stew.

* * *

Just when he thought Potter couldn't get any more stupid, she enters herself into the triwizard tournament. It would have been bad enough had student their age been _allowed_ to enter, which of course they hadn't, but all the other champions, Potter competition, were at least three years older than her. But only did they all have three years of magical education ahead of her but they were all raised in the magical world too. Even without the age gap they had an advantage over the girl there in being pure bloods, although Draco suspected something in the Delacour girl's blood. And of course Diggory and Krum were both male, Potter proved for herself last year that she was practically useless in a physical fight, unless of course a task were to required her to lay there like a punching bag.

Potter sure didn't like to let things get boring at Hogwarts, she always had to be the centre of attention, if that was what she wanted, that's what Draco would give her. The badges had been genius, Draco really couldn't give a stuff about Diggory, he was a stupid Hufflepuff, but the look on Potters face was exactly what he'd wanted. Unfortunately they hadn't stopped her from sneaking off with Diggory and having whispered conversations. Didn't the man have a girlfriend and she was three years his junior for Merlin's sake, he could do better even as a Hufflepuff. Draco, as a responsible citizen, made sure to mention these whispered conversations to Rita Skeeter. Sure he may have exaggerated just how close the pair had been and the frequency of the conversations to more than one, but Skeeter would have done that anyway.

What Draco hadn't expected was Skeeter's own little twist to the story. According to the article, which the rest of the school now took to be 100% fact, Potter was a scarlet woman. Playing not only the taken Diggory, but her own best friend, Ronald Weasley. Just, ew, even _Potter_ could do better than a Weasley. But of course the fact that Potter and the Weasel weren't talking just added fuel to the fire. While anyone who'd know the pair should know the tear in their friendship was likely caused by Weasley's jealousy over Potter competing in the tournament, the rumour mill had it down to a whole other kind of jealousy. The so called 'fact of the matter' was that Potter and Weasley had been an item up until Weasley had caught Potter and Diggory in the throes of passion. The many creative rumours flying around the school about the love triangle, or square if you counted Chang, were enough to keep Draco entertained for hours. He was sure that had Potter and Weasley been on speaking terms, they would no longer have been able to look each other in the eye without blushing red, or redder in the Weasel's case.

Her apparently busy love seemed to have no effect on Potter performance in the first task, regretfully. Draco was sure she'd cheated. First she summoned her broom, the rules had said wand _only_ , so what if she used her wand to summon her broom, she still had more than just her wand, strike one. Second, she'd flown out of sight of the spectators and judges, who knows what happened when they couldn't see her, she'd probably planned the whole thing and had some people waiting to disengage the dragon for her, strike two. Finally, she left the stadium, had she never heard of out of bounds, immediate disqualification, surely! But no, she'd tied first place and got the rest of the school back on side.

Potter needed putting in her place, she wasn't supposed to be doing well, and she should be the laughing stock of the school not a second champion with actual support. When Draco learnt that the four champions would have to open the Yule ball with a dance he was grinning for days. See Potter worm her way out of this one. Not only would she be forced to attend the ball, in a dress and likely heels, but every eye in the room would be watching when she inevitably made a fool of herself. Draco hadn't looked forward to Christmas so much ever since he was five years old and Father told him Santa was nothing but a muggles fairy tale.

* * *

Harry refused to look at her transfiguration professor and head of house or the so-called _friend_ by her side. Dancing lessons had been tortuous enough as it was, but at least the twins had made that fun. The pair had taken to spinning her between them before they started spinning each other, the three had ended up a giggling heap on the floor under McGonagall's glare, telling them they wouldn't be allowed near the dance floor if they kept it up, so they spun faster. But here the stern woman stood, telling her she had _no choice,_ she would be dancing and she would be doing so in a dress. Mrs. Weasley would be here shortly with a selection of heels and dresses that the four of them would go through together, Hermione was wisely silent throughout the conversation, she'd already done enough damage, tricking Harry here. So far, Harry had managed to avoid all questions about what she'd be wearing for weeks, with plans to skive the whole thing and spend the night hiding out with Ron and Sirius drinking butter beer. They couldn't make her dance or wear some poufy frilly nightmare if they couldn't find her. She'd made the mistake of allowing Hermione to read the letter Sirius had sent which made mention of their plans to meet at the shrieking shack the night of the ball. Being the _completely disloyal friend_ Hermione was, she'd asked Harry to accompany her to McGonagall's office to ask some questions about an essay. Like a _loyal friend_ Harry had come along only to have Hermione blab, so now the _day_ before the ball Harry sat glued to her chair awaiting her doom in Mrs. Weasley no doubt pink poufy arrival.

McGonagall and Hermione were now talking but Harry wasn't listening, she was trying to remember the counter curse to Hermione's sticking charm, her butt was starting to get numb, not that she'd ask that _traitor_ for help. It's not like Hermione had a dress herself, at least not that Harry had seen, the girl probably wasn't even going to the stinking ball. Of course she'd _claimed_ to have a date when Ron had asked her to go to the ball with him as a last resort, but who wouldn't have. In the robes Ron planned to wear even Harry would have lied to get out of it. Unfortunately Harry had been discussing with Ron her lack of date just moments before he's asked Hermione causing her to storm out of the room. Then he'd turned to her as his really desperate last resort. With no other choice Harry had had to be brutally honest, dubiously reformed friendship be damned.

"Ron." She'd told him delicately. "You're my best friend, and I love you dearly. But in those robes, not a snow ball's chance in hell."

They'd both laughed about it, until Ron asked her what she planned on doing for the champions opening dance. This being the first she'd heard of her scheduled doom, vigorous planning got underway for their escape to the shrieking shack. At least it had until Hermione stuck her nose in, they'd been so careful to only be pulled up on something as simple as not screening a letter, with less than 24 hours to go!

Harry heard Mrs. Weasley enter the room but stubbornly turned her head in the opposite direction, she wouldn't dignify this coup with any kind of feigned interest. They could have their fun but she wouldn't let them forget for a moment that she was here entirely against her will. She told them to take their pick of dresses, she certainly wouldn't be, and if they thought she'd be wearing makeup. Harry had spent twenty minutes sat in silence as they picked out her dress.

The trio finally handed Harry a green dress. Hah! She thought, of course it's green, how typical, they probably thought it'd make her eyes stand out or some girly thing like that. But at least it wasn't pink _or_ poufy, they appeared to have had some mercy. Harry threw the dress carelessly onto her chair as she was released from the sticking charm and McGonagall conjured a screen for her to change behind. Harry smirked when she pulled the dress on to find it far too big, at least a foot of fabric pooling around her feet. Crossing her arms over her chest to stop the lose top giving everyone an eye full, she stood out from behind the screen feeling smug.

"It's too big. In fact," Harry added looking at the pile of dress for the first time. "They all look to be too big. I guess I'll just have to give the dress and the whole circus a miss."

Before Harry had a chance to duck behind the screen and slip back into her comfy clothes, McGonagall raised her wand. Scolding Harry for not paying attention in class she resized the dress to fit, with promises to do the same to all the others once they were on. Harry's arms fell to her side in shock, the dress, unfortunately, fit her perfectly now and she could see no other way out. Hermione and the two other women in the room were likely to be watching her like a hawk for the next 24 hours to make sure she didn't make a run for it. Whether she liked it or not, she seemed to be going to this ball. Not one to suffer alone, she looked to her surrogate Mother Weasley in spite.

"You know, this dress is just going to look horrid next to Ron's robes, I imagine they'll clash terribly."

Mrs. Wealsey and McGonagall just looked at Harry in confusion, though the look Hermione was giving her said she knew _exactly_ what Harry was up to.

"You don't expect me to dance by myself do you? Ron's the only guy in my year who won't read too much into it that doesn't already have a date. I'd say you have about, 23 hours left to find him some half decent dress robes for the opening dance, we wouldn't won't Hogwarts being embarrassed now would we."

Harry could hardly contain her laughter as her words registered with the older women, sending them off into a whirlwind of action. The two woman began to bicker about colour and style for Ron's robes while going over conjured fabric swatches. Harry caught Hermione's eye and raised an eyebrow in challenge, the young witch narrowed her own eyes before heading off to collect Ron for his own dress up session. Harry stepped back behind the screen and pulled off the dress and on her hoodie and sweat pants, running from the room before Ron arrived, no doubt, in a furry.

* * *

 **A/N: if fanfic has let me keep it what do you think of my (poorly) edited cover photo of CRJ to be my Harietta Potter? I don't imagine her hair looking that long yet but definitely that long by end fourth year and as a Potter of course that messy, always.**

 **To guest reader who was unsure how Draco didn't know Harry was a girl, in chapter two re-read the beginning of Draco's thought dialogue at the start, hopefully that is as clear as I thought, if not, let me know and I'll try to write it better.**


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